jammin' with the burke! 7th interview

[arctic]

r. burke

When I arrived, they mentioned to me that I could go out and get a new outfit. This year they were doing something 'special' for the tributes, which I guess is some sort of interview. They want to get to know us better than pawns in their next crop of bodies to ship back home. So in order to "treat us" some more, they are letting us pick what we wear for this interview. Coming from someone who has always been accused of bullshit, I call bullshit. I mean, whenever I was nice to people, I had good reason to. Why be mean to people when you don't have to? All it takes is a kind face for the day to generally make it better. Here? Well, we're dying anyway, why bother to breathe life into your cotton dolls?

I ended up choosing this strawberry-red dress. It reminded me of home, so I wanted to wear something that felt like it was actually for me. I wouldn't be shocked if this is what I got shipped back in, too, so it'd give them another branding opportunity. I know my grandfather would ride that wave until the tide couldn't carry it anymore. Anyway, I walked into the interview and was greeted with silk white teeth and hair slicked back like it was to cover a loss of the rest of it.

"Hello, darling!" The interviewer had a chirp to his voice, as if he were a bird. His slicked back hair could maybe form a nest for one. I took his hand and shook it briefly. I don't know what else to do. "Tell us about yourself." Well, uh, okay.

"I'm Roxana Burke." Silence. "I'm from District 11." Gulp. What all am I supposed to say? Do I trust them? Do I actually gain anything out of this? Clearly this guy has no experience in interviewing either. "I have two moms and a brother. My family owns a strawberry farm. We sell all sorts of strawberry based products. Strawberry-Peach, Strawberry-Plum, Strawberry-Banana, all sorts of spreads you can put on toast and such." The mention of home flutters the homesick wings that sit at the bottom of my chest. There's still a bit of silence between us, as if he's searching for things to say.

"Well, those sound delicious!" The silence is starting to get awkward now. This was supposed to be a treat? "What about romance? Cute as you are, I bet there is someone back home waiting, right?" What does that matter for? Are they going to kill him next? And why is he calling me cute? I don't think dead corpses were something that the government permitted as sexual property.

There is someone, though. Thayden, but they don't need to know about him... there's no reason to trust what they want this information for, right? I gulp down the wish to talk about the boy before I continue. "Um, no. Not really." I look around, trying to come with an excuse as to why, and the farm is the only thing I can think of. "I've always been so focused on the farm. I just want us to succeed, you know?" This is true, and the thoughts start to create that wobble in your throat that insinuates a tear is to come soon. "After the war, I just wanted to work. I wanted to help as much as possible to turn us into a successful family that didn't have to worry about being as hungry or sick or thirsty or dirty as so many of the people we gave our leftover produce to. I didn't want to end up like that." I leave it at that, giving a slight nod and pushing the hair that began to fall in front of my face behind my ear.

"Isn't that amazing! A girl who works hard even in the face of struggle. Now, I have one last question as we begin to wrap up; is that what you're fighting to come home to?" Yes, I guess. Other than Thayden, but he's not even anything real. It's not even a situation that I could fathom happening, as much as I would like to. It's cheesy and romantic, but he's one of the few people I've ever had feelings for. He and his father used to come by the farm daily, rather than have their annual products delivered. I would always get to talk to them as I would get their usual items, the strawberry-banana spread, a box of fresh strawberries and a complimentary (smaller) loaf of bread that we offer as a part of our spreads. Thayden would always ask how the dog was doing, as if he couldn't see the old girl sleeping by the porch, and ask about myself as well. It was sweet.

"Uh, yes. It is. I always wanted to take over the farm once my mothers thought they were too old to hold the weight of it themselves. I've thought that we could always do more than just strawberries, because so much red gets boring after a while, you know?" I let out a laugh at the attempt of a joke, hoping that it provides more humanity to me. "I guess that's something to figure out if, or when I get home."

The man interviewing me, still nameless, gives a tight smile and nods. "Well, we can only hope your dream can come true. I can only wish the best for you, Roxanne, and it was lovely meeting you!" I give a simple nod. I don't know how to really end these kinds of things. The newspaper at home never really interviewed me, just my moms.

"Thank you for having me."

And that was it.

Weird.